Desire After Dark

Page 3

She had seen a stranger, Vicki thought as she drove to work later that evening, although she wasn't sure that sitting in Ozzie's Diner could be construed as loitering.
She felt a shiver of unease when that same stranger entered the diner a couple of hours later and again sat at the booth in the far corner. She hesitated before moving toward him, wondering if he had killed Sharlene and the Lewis woman. She glanced around the diner, noting that there were no single women, redheaded or otherwise, sitting at any of the tables tonight.
He smiled as she approached the booth. "Good evening."
He had a very sexy smile.
"Is there any point in my taking your order?" she asked, pulling her pad from the pocket of her apron.
His smile widened, revealing even white teeth that looked like they belonged in a toothpaste commercial. "Perhaps not."
"Why do you come in here every night?" she asked, slipping her pad back into her apron pocket. "You never eat anything."
His gaze moved over her in a way that made her blush from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. "Perhaps it is your company that draws me."
She crossed her arms over her breasts, her expression skeptical. It didn't happen often, but every now and then a stranger tried to pick her up. "Uh-huh."
"You do not believe me?"
"Listen, we're really busy tonight. Do you want anything or not?"
His gaze moved over her again, lingering on the hollow of her throat. It made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn't quite comprehend. If he told her she looked good enough to eat, she was going to slug him. "Well?"
He glanced quickly around the room, then shook his head. "No, I want nothing but to spend some time with you."
"Excuse me, but I'm working here."
She was about to turn away when his voice, deliciously soft and sinfully seductive, stayed her.
"Come out with me, Victoria. I will not hurt you, I promise."
She stared at him, thinking what an odd thing that was for a man to say to a woman. "I can't, sorry."
"Perhaps you will change your mind."
The thought of going out with him made her mouth go dry. "I don't think so."
She moved away from the table as quickly as she could without running. When she risked a glance at the booth a short time later, he was gone. Again, he had left her a generous tip.
She was too busy the rest of the night to spend much time thinking about the stranger, but later that night, when she was at home soaking in a hot bubble bath, his image rose up in her mind— dark blue eyes, long black hair, a fine blade of a nose, a strong jaw, sensual lips, cheekbones that were high and prominent, skin that looked a trifle pale.
But then, maybe he didn't spend much time in the sun. Lots of people avoided it these days, what with all the worry about the dangers of too much sun and skin cancer.
Still later, while lying in bed watching a late movie, she found herself thinking of the stranger again, wondering if he would show up at the diner tomorrow night, wondering what would happen if she went out with him. She quickly put that idea right out of her mind. She had seen two women leave the diner with him, two redheaded women, and now they were both dead, their bodies dumped out near the Hollow, both drained of blood. There was no proof that the stranger had killed them. But then, there was no proof that he hadn't.
Still, she spent a few moments thinking how good it would make her feel if she could call her mother and her sister and tell them that she'd had a date with a really hot-looking guy. But she wasn't brave enough, or foolish enough, to go out with a total stranger, no matter how hunky he was, not when that stranger had been seen with two women who had been murdered.
Switching off the TV, she settled down under the covers. She should have gone to the police when she first read about the murders, she thought with a twinge of guilt. Of course, someone else might have already reported that there was a stranger in town.
But that didn't excuse her. What if the stranger was the killer? How would she feel if he killed again because she hadn't gone to the police, because she had been reluctant to get involved? Would she have gone to the police sooner if the stranger weren't so darkly handsome and didn't have such a deep, sexy voice?
Not liking the answer that came to mind, she resolved to call the police first thing in the morning.
Tuesday night, Officers Ned Williams and Arnie Hall sat at table three, each working on his third cup of coffee. Vicki had called the police department earlier that day and told Chief Neil Ryan about the stranger who had been coming into the diner at about the same time each evening, and that she had seen him with both of the victims. Ryan had told her that he would send Ned and Arnie over to the diner later that night. And now they were here.
"I thought you said he came in every night," Ned Williams said, looking around. "I don't see him."
Vicki shrugged. "Well, he was here Friday, Saturday, and Monday nights about this time." The diner was closed on Sundays. "Maybe he was just passing through."
Arnie Hall pulled a small black notebook from his shirt pocket and scribbled a few lines.
He was a nice-looking guy, with curly blond hair and blue eyes and a deep cleft in his chin.
"Why didn't you call us sooner?" Ned asked.
Vicki shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I should have, but… "
"It doesn't matter," Arnie said. "Did you see him talk to Sharlene or the Lewis woman?"
"No, but I saw him leave with Sharlene."
"Did he make any overtures toward them at all?" Ned asked.
Vicki shook her head. "I don't think so, at least none that I'm aware of."
"Did he act like he knew them?" Arnie asked.
She shook her head again, thinking that she wasn't being much help. But then, she didn't really know anything about the man.
Arnie drummed his fingers on the table. "So, what makes you think this guy might have killed Sharlene and the Lewis woman?"
"I… " She lifted one hand and let it fall. "I never said that. I read in the paper that the police were asking for help and, well, I saw him leave with both of them and, well, I don't know, I thought he might have some information that would be useful."
"You did the right thing in calling us," Arnie said. He drained his coffee cup and reached for his hat. "If you see him again, let us know."
"I will. Are you two going to Sharlene's funeral? It's tomorrow morning at eleven."
Arnie nodded. "We'll be there."
"Yeah," Ned said. "You never know who might turn up."
"What do you mean?" Vicki asked.
"Killers have been known to show up at these things," Arnie explained.
"You're kidding!"
Ned shrugged. "It happens."
"Why would he take a chance like that?" Vickie asked.
"Who knows? To thumb his nose at the cops? To hear what people are saying? Like I said, who knows what goes through a killer's mind." He dropped a couple of dollars on the table, then rose. "Take it easy, girl."
"As always," Vicki replied.
"Give my best to your mom when you talk to her again," Arnie said.
"I will."
She watched Ned and Arnie leave the diner. They were both nice guys. She had dated Arnie a couple of times. He was a wonderful man and she had tried hard to fall in love with him but there just hadn't been any spark between them, at least on her part. Now, they were just good friends. Ned was married and the father of twin boys.
Scooping the greenbacks from the table, Vicki dropped them into her pocket, then carried the cups into the kitchen.
"You should give Arnie another chance," Gus said, winking at her.
"You sound just like my mother, you old goat," Vicki replied with an affectionate grin.
"Hey, since your papa passed on and your mama moved away, you are my business."
"I know, I know." Gus Jacobson had been her father's best friend. Since her father had passed away and her mother had gone to St. Louis to help Karen with the kids, Gus had adopted Vicki. Not that she minded. It was nice to know that, even though she was all grown up, she still had someone in town to look after her.
"Tell Bobbie Sue her order's up, will ya?" Gus asked.
"Sure."
Leaving the kitchen, Vicki came to an abrupt halt when she saw that the stranger had arrived and was sitting in his usual place in the back booth. Strange, how that particular booth was always empty when he arrived.
As though drawn by an invisible cord Victoria walked toward him. As usual, he was all in black from the top of his head to the boots on his feet. Not for the first time, she noted how well the color suited him.
He lifted one dark brow as she neared his table. "The police were here." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.
"Yes." She wondered how he knew Ned and Arnie had been there. Had he been lurking outside in the shadows, peeking in the window?
"Did you call them?"
She hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes."
"Why?"
She had no intention of telling him what she suspected. Indeed she was trying to come up with a good lie when his gaze locked with hers and she found herself telling him the truth.
"Because I saw you leave here with Sharlene and that other woman, and now they're both dead."
"Ah. And you think I killed them?"
"Did you?" It was a foolish question. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to call them back. What if he said yes? What would she do then? What would he do?
She stared at him. Was he capable of committing such a heinous crime not once, but twice? Would he keep coming to the diner if he had? Would he be at the funeral?
His eyes narrowed his gaze boring deep into hers. "You would not believe me if I said no, would you?"
"I… I don't know."
With a nod he slid gracefully from the booth. It was the first time she had stood next to him. Only now did she realize just how tall and broad he was. Power emanated from him, making the hair raise along her arms and her nape, sending a prickle of fear down her spine.